April Fool's
by Devious Decepticon
Summary: With a day devoted especially to pranks, Sideswipe wreaks havoc in the Autobot base. After all, April Fool's Day only comes once a year...
1. April Fool's!

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN TRANSFORMERS! Trust me, if I did, I'd be freakin' rich right about now. Unfortunately, that's not the case…I'm making absolutely NO money off this, so don't even start thinking it…

Dedication: This if for my wonderful artist friend, Becka! She's drawn me some awesome pictures, and written me some equally as awesome fanfics, so it's about stinkin' time I returned the favor! Third in a series of three gift fics…

Warning: This story contains slash! Ya don't like it, don't read it; simple as that.

Author's Note: The dedication pretty much sums everything up…NO FLAMES PLEASE! Constructive criticism/beta offers are always welcome, but being rude is not. If you want to be rude, then go do it somewhere else, please. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy it, and don't forget to tell me what you think!

April Fool's!

Sideswipe couldn't_believe_ that humans had one day of the year devoted to pranks…it seemed too good to be true. Not that everyday pranks weren't fun, but today, he'd unleash a slew of practical jokes that not even Ratchet or Prowl could possibly imagine. Right on schedule, the sun began to rise up over the hilltops near the Autobot base, initiating what would be a very, _very_ long day for its inhabitants.

What could be more entertaining than infuriating a cantankerous medic in the morning? Not much…

He heard the pressurized doors open with a soft "woosh", and then-

_CLANG!_

"Primus!" squealed the victim in indignity, his vocal processors glitching from the sudden strain placed upon them. "I-it's disgusting!"

The red mech snickered to himself; his concoction of spoiled chocolate pudding and sour milk had hit the intended target, slithering in thick, goopy rivulets between the seams of Ratchet's armor. The sensation must have been horrific, like nails grating on a blackboard, as the sharp chill of the substance prickled against sensitive wires. Once again, he heard the medic groan in misery, and quickly hid when the unfortunate mech staggered out of his quarters and down the hall to the washroom, desperate to rid himself of the mess.

Once he was sure the coast was clear, Sideswipe cautiously emerged from his hiding place. "One down, three to go."

Down the hall, a dismayed cry of, "Slag!" could be heard by the prankster's audio receptors, and he grinned again when he realized that the next casualty had fallen right into his trap.

Poor Prowl was hastily gathering up data pads from the floor, where they'd ended up when he dropped them unceremoniously onto his desk…and the piece of furniture buckled underneath them. The Lamborghini stifled his choking laughter; losing some beauty sleep last night to loosen the bolts in the tactician's office had been totally worth this sight. With the twenty or so data pads stacked precariously in his arms, the black and white mech wobbled over to his filing cabinet, and carefully placed them on top of it…only to have that collapse as well, sending more papers and data pads raining down onto the floor. Having given up trying to find a surface to set them on, Prowl organized the materials into a neat stack, and set them carefully in a corner before rising to his feet. He heaved a heavy sigh, and rubbing his optics wearily with his hand, plopped down into his nice, comfy office chair…only to have that crash down onto the ground as well, rolling him out of his seat and flat onto his back.

"Oh, _come on_!" he shouted in frustration, not bothering to move from his place on the floor. "How could things get any-?"

Sideswipe almost felt bad for Prowl when the floor caved in, sending him into the bunkers below. Almost…but not quite. He let out a shriek of laughter, pounding the wall with his balled-up fist while he used the other hand to clutch his throbbing abdomen. Primus, this was getting good…

"_Time for my next casualty,"_ he leered as the thought crossed his mind. _"This one's gonna be classic!"_

He crept quietly into the quarters he shared with his brother, taking extra care to not wake up "The Daisy of Doom". Checking to be sure no one was watching, he reached down under his recharge berth, and extracted several cans of black, grey, red, and purple washable paint, meticulously lining them up on the tray in front of his mirror.

"Okay," he muttered to himself, opening the cans earnestly before peering into them. "You can do this, Sides."

Slowly, precisely, he painted the vast majority of his gleaming chassis grey, despising the dull, lackluster shade. Next came the insides of his lower legs and his forearms, to which he applied the red paint, savoring the familiarity of the color; this was followed by black, which he applied liberally to his hands, lower legs, and waist, wincing as the chilly paint slid over his codpiece. He painted his face with the precision of an artist, carefully dabbing the grey paint over his cheeks, and masterfully outlining his optics in black before placing transparent red covers over them. Quickly, he attached his new, non-functional accessories before finally crowning himself with a new helm, cackling maniacally when he saw the result. All that was needed was the finishing touch; he smeared a bit of purple paint on the center of his chestplate, touched up the edges, and after a final few minutes of scrutiny in the mirror, pronounced himself complete.

The alteration was astounding. Practicing a look he had seen many times before from the foe he was mimicking, Sideswipe was startled to see almost an exact duplicate of Megatron staring coldly at him from the mirror, red optics gleaming like polished rubies in the fluorescent lights overhead. He turned to Sunstreaker, who was still sound asleep in his berth. Paint buckets in hand, he suppressed a burst of laughter as he crept up on his unsuspecting twin…

* * *

It'd been a close call, with Sunstreaker nearly rolling over twice, but Sideswipe made it out with his objective accomplished, and his paint job still un-smeared. Now all that was left was to tip the domino that would set off the chain. Glancing furtively around from underneath a large cloak, the red mech tiptoed into the chambers of Optimus Prime, silently closing the doors behind him. And just as he'd expected, the great Autobot leader was lying, unmoving, on his berth, locked into a deep stasis, vulnerable to any sort of attack.

"_This is almost__too__ easy…"_ _mused the red mech as he removed his disguise._

He swung his right arm forward, pointing his "cannon" directly over Prime's faceplate and gave it an experimental jab. Nothing happened; the sleeping mech lay completely still, not even so much as twitching from the contact. Trying again, Sideswipe poked his commander again, and just as before, he received no response. Now emboldened by his lack of success, the determined Lamborghini prodded even harder-

_BOOM!_

The red mech suddenly didn't care about his prank, or his dignity, any longer, tearing out of his leader's chambers so fast he was barely a blur, leaving behind a smoldering wreckage of a wall where he once stood. To Pit with the pranks, he had a loaded weapon chasing him down…

Fortunately for Sideswipe, Ratchet had left the washroom around twenty minutes ago, leaving him just enough time to turn on the water at full blast, and rinse himself clean of the offending pain as he tossed away the phony helm and cannon.

"_Was trying to scare Prime __really__ worth almost getting my head blown off?" he questioned himself as he watched the colorful evidence slip discreetly down the drain grate. He came to a conclusion almost moments afterwards. "Definitely not. Note to self: Never try to startle Optimus…"_

Fresh and clean from a good wash, the red Lamborghini made his way cheerfully into the rec room, his spirits high with only one failed prank out of two, and one more still on the way. He'd just walked in and snagged an energon cube when Bumblebee made his way over and started chattering about April Fool's Day, and how his had been going so far.

"Not bad," he chuckled over the pink liquid as he took a gulp. "Not bad at all. Yours?"

"Eh, boring." The mini-bot also indulged himself in some energon. "Spent it planning pranks, but never playing them."

The larger mech clapped him on the shoulder, laughing heartily. "Maybe next year-"

It was at this moment that everyone did a double take out towards the hall, and burst out laughing; running full speed down the hallway was Sunstreaker, his precious chassis disguised by enemy paint, with Optimus hot on his tail, aiming blasts at his "attacker" as he started gaining ground. For once, not worried about his appearance, the yellow mech screamed shrilly as he ran for his life, lunging into the washroom and locking himself in.

"You know what?" Sideswipe tossed his empty energon container into the waste disposal unit, and picked up another. "I take that back." He grinned at the sight of the Autobot leader pounding on the washroom doors. "My April Fool's Day was perfect."


	2. Payback's a Bitch

_The Beginning…of the End_

Sideswipe had endured a long, laugh-filled April Fool's Day in the Autobots' base; those he didn't prank treated him to several rounds of high-grade energon in celebration, toasting his marvelous success in bringing down three of the biggest –and in some cases, most uptight—mechs amongst their number.

They recounted the day's events with intoxicated cackling, leaning on each other for support as their raucous laughter filled the crowded bar, optics of the other patrons swiveling to the disturbance. They had a marvelous time telling Sideswipe's story to anyone who would listen, and the mech of honor even managed to pick up a few femmes as a result.

It didn't seem like long before the owner of the club shooed everyone out the front door so the bar could close, and it wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that the thoroughly cratered group managed to make their wobbly way back home.

Red Alert, who was heading back to his quarters, looked as though his processor was on the verge of fritzing again as the mechs barreled in through the front doors of the base, nearly plowing him over as they let out a series of tittering giggles.

"Shhhhh!" shushed Bluestreak, his dermal plating flushed bright red from the high-grade. "You'll wake everybody up!"

That last part hadn't been intended to be a shout; the Datsun had little control over the volume of his vocals anymore, and several mechs dove on him to silence him as others quickly moved to pacify the poor security director, who looked like he wanted to bellow for Prowl to come and "save" him.

After regrouping, the small company made their way through the maze of white hallways, using their best efforts to be stealthy, but failing miserably. As the wing bearing their quarters came into view, their hopes soared; they were almost home free…just a little bit longer!

"Going somewhere, men?"

The mechs groaned as their processors recognized the familiar voice. They were sunk, and drunk as skunks standing in a huddled, frightened little cluster in the center of the enormous hall. How embarrassing…

Prowl allowed an uncharacteristic smirk to slide onto his chiseled face as the stupor on the intoxicated mechs' faces morphed into a look of pure terror. He held up several pairs of handcuffs and jangled them with unprecedented glee as he moved toward them. "Party's over, boys."

Fully knowing the routine to come, the red Lamborghini was the first one to turn around to be cuffed, but was startled when the tactician breezed past him, and began to arrest the others before sending them, heads hanging in shame, to the brig.

"I…I don't understand…"

"Oh, don't worry, Sideswipe." Prowl leered at him, and the red mech began to slowly back away as he closed in. "You're not getting off _that_ easy…"

* * *

_Primus…how humiliating!_

"Say it again!"

A heavy sigh of air cycled through Sideswipe's intakes as he proceeded to be marched –PAINTLESS!—down the main hallway of the base, the shackles on his wrists and ankles digging in far too painfully for his liking.

"I will never be as appealing as Prowl."

This "admission" caused the Autobots to burst out laughing, and they only laughed harder as the tactician poured a few barrels of tar over his head. The hot, oozing sensation was uncomfortable enough as it was but, those done wrong were not finished yet. Optimus, Ratchet, and Sunstreaker were currently scooping up massive armloads of white and yellow feathers, and flinging them onto the sticky goop coating the mortified red warrior, giving him the appearance of a large, mechanical chicken.

"Pulling those pranks while we were sleeping-" growled his twin as he shoved a particularly large bunch onto Sideswipe's aft, giving him a "tail". "That's so weak!"

"I'm afraid I must agree," added Optimus, a pleasant smile clearly behind his faceplates as he flung more feathers into the air to rain down upon his attacker. "But I think that justice has been done."

Taking his cue, the medic dropped the feathers he was holding, and withdrew his welder from subspace with an evil grin. "Told ya I'd weld your aft to the wall."

So, after a few more minutes of heckling, the crowd dissipated to start their morning routines, leaving Sideswipe poultrified, drunk, and welded to the wall at the aft with Prowl standing nearby.

For once, seeming completely at ease, he smiled at the thoroughly embarrassed Lamborghini.

"Who's the fool now?"

* * *

Author's Note: I know…I said this story was completed. But so many of you asked for a follow-up with Sideswipe getting his just deserved, and I finally caved, lol.

This was just a quickie, seeing as how I should REALLY be paying attention to my work, but I hope you guys like it!


End file.
